<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Faceless by Eatgreass</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096054">Faceless</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eatgreass/pseuds/Eatgreass'>Eatgreass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Statement fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dismemberment, Feelings of Being Watched, Gen, Paranoia, Statement Fic, cannibalism (?) kinda, gets lots more violent in the second chapter, jon makes a friend!, jon shows up in the 3rd chapter, micheal appears as of chapter 5!, nobody has any brain cells at all, not as a main plot point, not sasha only shows up for a little bit, season 2 jon, self mutilation, that is to say paranoia jon, written in script format, yeah he doesnt think things through he just really wants to help people, you know when jon released the creature in the table?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:47:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eatgreass/pseuds/Eatgreass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon makes a huge mistake.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist &amp; Original Character, Michael | The Distortion &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Original avatar character that is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Statement fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Statement of Billie Turner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Argh this was a hard one to proofread. If you see any grammar errors that really get under your skin, feel free to comment and tell me. Nothing annoys me more than rogue grammar errors in my work.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is following me. That I am certain of. That’s the first thing you have to believe. I won’t give my statement if you won’t believe that it is following me. Is that clear? Good.</p><p><br/>
I don’t exactly know what it is. I’m not a dancer, but I have been trying to pick up a new hobby lately, dance skating. If you look that term up on google, what you get is a list of youtube videos displaying people standing still while artlessly waving their arms to pop music all while wearing roller skates. Skate dancing, the real art form, is much more about footwork than anything you end up doing with your arms. So every day, I had been going to the roller rink and practicing footwork. Most of it is just putting simple moves together to create something much more complicated. If you do a backward crossover, and immediately after that, you spin into a grapevine, it looks and is much more complicated than simple skating maneuvers. Anyway, I go to a public roller rink, and so I expected to not be the only one there, and sometimes I even had folks attempt to imitate me. It was all very charming, and rather amusing to watch occasionally. But I also usually stayed until the rink closed, so most evenings, it was a rather empty rink from nine until ten, and that’s when I really had the place to myself.</p><p><br/>
But I have not been alone this last year. It has not been a clumsy adult or an overeager child that has been following my movements, unable to keep up. No, this person is deadly silent, mirroring every movement that I made in perfect symmetry. Not perfectly, for they fell and stumbled and messed up at exactly the same intervals that I did. That’s what was truly terrifying. Somebody learning my routine, however strange that would be, is something I could buy. But somebody predicting my moves? That was too strange to be another innocent skater.<br/>
I did the obvious thing, of course. I’m not an idiot. I looked behind me to see who might have been copying me before I came to your institute to make a statement like a raving lunatic. But the thing was, there was nobody standing behind me. The entire rink was deserted, save for the man at the snack bar, waiting in vain for a customer. No, I was utterly alone. And yet, there was still the presence of somebody in the rink, watching me, and there was still a pair of ink black skates copying my movements when I looked down to continue my dance.<br/>
That’s another thing that I should mention. The skates behind me were a pure, ink black, as if this was the first time they had ever been used. There were no scuff marks, not a speck of dust marring the skates. Nobody could be that good, that flawless without having scuffed and tattered skates. The skates didn’t just look new, either, they looked impeccably clean. Skates are not made to look that spotless, and the skates in the corner of my eye were clean to a fault.</p><p><br/>
I went home.</p><p><br/>
I thought I was just tired, it was just me and my own mind playing tricks on me. Maybe I just saw somebody clumsily copying me, and in my tired state, I thought they were doing a better job than I previously thought. But there they were the next day. And the next, and the next and again and again and again.</p><p><br/>
I stopped going to that rink, and started traveling a half hour out of my way every day, and spending more money than I had ever before on skating, but they followed me. I tried every rink in town, but they followed me. They followed me to whichever place I went to try to be free of them.</p><p><br/>
I stopped going to rinks. I started skating in the street, or at the park, in a different area every single day. And every single day, they found me. I would start skating as normal, and I would be perfectly alone. I would never see the stranger arrive, I would merely hear the clack of skates and see a silhouette behind me.</p><p><br/>
Despite all of these strange occurrences, the stranger, looming and ominous as they were, did not seem to want to hurt me. I guess you can get used to anything if given time, because I kept skating, with the strange and perfect clacking mirroring my every step. I went back to rinks. I went back to life. I could almost dismiss the shadow behind me as a hallucination.<br/>
But as I got more comfortable with the presence of the shadow, it became more comfortable encroaching on my own life in turn. At first it only appeared at roller rinks. Then it began to appear in other public places, mirroring my actions, walking with me, sitting with me, raising its hand in my classes with me out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t see it completely, although I knew that it could see me. I knew it was watching me. And although it didn’t want to hurt me, it did get bolder.</p><p><br/>
I don’t know how else to put it. It got stronger, maybe? It started manifesting, and I could see it. A faceless person, that looked like me in build, body, and clothing. It was careful though, because it only ever appeared in the corner of my eye, and only ever for a second. No eyes. No mouth. No nose. It wore the same clothes as I every day, and I could see the same scars that I had when we wore more revealing clothes. It even had the same bad knee that I had lived with since I was fifteen. And you know what? I was able to get used to the doll figure in the corner of my eyes, just as I had gotten used to the shadow performing with me. I suppose I should tell your institute when all of this started, since that was nearly a year ago, last august. I've lived with a strange apparition following me for nearly a year. It started coming into my house six months ago. This is hell. Hell isn’t fire and brimstone, but the incessant feeling of never being alone, and it’s what I’ve been living with for a fucking year.</p><p><br/>
But that’s not the most terrifying part, even. No, the worst part is what happened just this morning. I woke up, six A.M. sharp as usual, just in time to get ready for work. It was light outside. Things like this aren’t supposed to happen in the bright light of the dawn, and with the sun shining through your window. They-- it, for I am now certain that the creature can no longer be called a person, if it had ever been one in the first place-- was standing at the foot of my bed, faceless and unmoving. I am absolutely convinced that, had it been in possession of a mouth, it would have been grinning.</p><p><br/>
Frozen in my bed, I watched it. I didn’t even have the wherewithal to call in sick for work, I sat there in my bed for hours. Eventually, it wasn’t there anymore. Just as how it had appeared without notice in the early days of my curse, it left without notice now. I didn’t even get dressed before coming to your institute, instead opting to walk here with my hair mussed and in sleep clothes. I mean, you've seen me today. The young man with dyed black hair that gave me the statement paper--Jared, I think his name was-- looked absolutely appalled at the condition I was in. I can see why, a disheveled, tired mess of a person. And even now, I can feel the creature watching me while I write this statement. At first, it did not seem to want to hurt me, but now I am absolutely certain that it has some sort of sinister fate decided for me. I’m convinced that I don't have much time left. Please. You are the only people that I thought might listen to me. Please, you have to stop this. Please. Whatever it is, it wants me. I am determined not to let it have what it wants, but I don’t even know if I have any say in the matter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Statement of the entity formerly known as Billie Turner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Statement given April of 2020.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tw on this chapter for graphic depictions of self mutilation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Do you remember me, Archivist? Do you remember the scared, sniveling person that walked into your office eight months and three days ago, crying about their skating routine being disrupted by a shadow? Do you remember them, Archivist?</p><p><br/>No. I don’t think you do. I don’t think you remember them, simply because nobody remembers Billie Turner. Do you still have my statement? Statement of Billie Turner, regarding strange experiences they had while roller skating in August of 2019? So I am going to give you another statement. File it with the one that I gave previously, if you want. Throw it away, I don’t really care.</p><p><br/>Statement of Billie Turner, regarding the apathetic nature of The Magnus Institute when investigating their encounter with the entity known as the stranger.</p><p><br/>My statement left off with me pleading, begging not to be left to deal with the faceless shadow that lived in the corner of my eye. I don’t know if you remember that. Hell, I don’t even know if you read the damn statements. I was scared when I got home from visiting your institute. I made myself a cup of tea and resigned myself to deal with the worst of it, fight it if I could, but in the back of my mind, I knew what was going to happen. I updated my will. Then, I went down to the park and cut off all of my fingers and toes. I don’t think I screamed, but somebody else did, maybe the couple that had come down in the setting sun to the park to enjoy a nice picnic. I was too engrossed in my art. Once I had gotten rid of all of the fingers and toes, I worked my way up, starting at each joint, and slicing off pieces of my skin one by one. The bones were hard to cut through, but somehow my knife sliced off my skin like it was butter. Should I have been dead at this point?</p><p>Probably. I cut off both of my legs, slicing them into thin pieces of meat, then got as far as one arm before I lost consciousness. There was a lot of blood where I was sitting. D.O.A. In the medical field, that means that a person that was dead on arrival, and that was the prognosis that the paramedics gave me. I wasn’t in that body, though, by the time it was taken by the medical professionals. I don’t think I was corporeal at that point. Now I am, and it took me two months of being so close to fading, so close to returning to the dust, to figure out what it was that I needed to become a corporeal being again. I needed to feed. That’s what the faceless shadow in the corner of my eye was doing all those months. It was feeling on me, using my fear to grow itself into a being more solid, and after a year of me being scared at every turn, it had grown itself a body. I needed to do that. It didn’t take me a year. Only around four months to grow myself a body. I lurked in the back of a cafe, you see, terrorizing the staff, feeding off the paranoia of one member of the staff in particular. He knew I was real, but his boyfriend never saw me, leading him to believe he was going crazy, and his boyfriend to believe the same. Once I had grown strong enough, Archivist, I came here. You don’t need to know about the two months I spent roaming, trying to survive on the meager fear I could find to feed myself.</p><p><br/>I am not the stranger, Archivist. I am not like the distortion, because I am still Billie Turner. But it hurts. I want to rip off your arms, I want to watch you die, I want to cut out your eyes and watch you scream. There is a pain you will never experience, and that is the pain of your consciousness being ripped from your body as your body ceases to exist. I do not have eyes. I do not have a mouth. I have the body of a mannequin, as impersonal as you imagine it, it is a thousand times worse. I have the body of a shadow, the pain of being but not being real. So what do I want you to do, Archivist? I want you to fix me. I want you to find me a way to live without having to steal from others. I am trying not to feed, I am trying desperately. But I grow weaker each day, and eventually I will feed. I can promise you that if I will not feed on innocent bystanders. No, I will feed on your archival assistants. Gertrude would have let me from what I hear, but I think you care about them more than she did. So find me a way out of this hell body, or I will feed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My tumblr is @eatgreass if you wanna talk to me. </p><p>also as a side note, if you see any grammar/spelling errors that annoy you, I will not be offended and actually really do like when people point them out to me, so feel free to do that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Follow up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Follow up on the case of Billie Turner.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon: Well, as you can see, I’ve filed those two statements together, and it seems that Billie Turner had a rather interesting change in demeanor between the time they gave the first and second statement. The bit about, um, “Feeding on my assistants” is quite concerning, although it’s not like Martin has never had some sort of eldritch horror attempt to feed on him, so he’ll probably be fine. What’s more concerning is the assertion that Gertrude would have let this Billie feed on her staff. Previously, I was concerned about the possibility of somebody in the archives having murdered my predecessor, but now I find myself wondering what actions Gertrude must have taken in order for this creature to be positive that they would be allowed to feed on her assistants. This is concerning. Very concerning. I hesitate to hand this statement off to any of my assistants, for fear of how they might react, and of course, there is still the looming possibility that one of them may have been responsible for the murder of Gertrude, and so I will be conducting the follow-up on my own time. [click of tape recorder]</p><p><br/>Jon: [slight shaky, out of breath] I have attempted to contact this entity. There was a phone number left on the first statement sheet, and I called it. Unfortunately, it goes straight to voicemail whenever I call the number. The voicemail sounds like that of a person. I have transcribed the voicemail message here in the event that it is significant to the case at all.</p><p><br/>“Hello. This is Billie. I don’t check my voicemail, so if you really need to reach me, you can text the number you just called.”</p><p><br/>I have also texted this number, with no response from the entity, although I am hopeful I will soon receive a response. [Click of tape recorder]</p><p><br/>Jon: [frantic, whispering] I received a text back from the entity known as Billie Turner. I received this text:</p><p><br/>“Park in front of the institute.”</p><p><br/>That was the entire text. I am now sitting outside the institute, in the park a block away. I left work early, claiming illness, which pleased Martin more than it should have. Part of me thinks I should be worried that he’s always trying to make me take time off work. Does he have something to do in the institute, something he can only do when I am not present?<br/>[fumbles, nearly drops tape recorder] I see someone coming down the street. They look odd, is it…? [sigh of relief] No. Just another odd looking gentleman.<br/>[There is a sound of something creaking, and then the sound of Jon nearly falling over, and fumbling with the things he is holding] Are you…?</p><p><br/>Billie: Yes.</p><p><br/>Jon: Oh.</p><p><br/>Billie: Yeah.</p><p><br/>Jon: I just thought, you know, you’d look more, erm,--</p><p><br/>Billie: Horrifying?</p><p><br/>Jon: Well… yes.</p><p><br/>Billie: [long sigh] Walk with me.</p><p><br/>[There is the not quite human creaking sound again. It sounds like a bench with too much weight on it, but slightly distorted, screeching more.]</p><p><br/>Jon: I can’t fix you.</p><p><br/>Billie: I know.</p><p><br/>Jon: Really? But in the statement you gave you threatened to, well, consume my assistants if I couldn’t find you a way out of becoming an avatar.</p><p><br/>Billie: Archivist, both you and I know that there is no way out of becoming an Avatar.</p><p><br/>Jon: So? What have you decided to do?</p><p><br/>Billie: Feed it. What else can I do?</p><p><br/>Jon: You could… not.</p><p><br/>[Long pause]</p><p><br/>Billie: Come here, Archivist. I need to show you something.</p><p><br/>[there is the sound of wood creaking, presumably a door. ]</p><p><br/>Jon: What? [He sounds like he’s terrified out of his mind] Your--your face…</p><p><br/>Billie: [there is the sound of laughter coming from something distinctly other than a mouth.] I am not human anymore Archivist. In fact, I am very different than the person that gave your institute a statement years ago. I do not feed often. I do not feed for pleasure, merely for nourishment, and only enough to stay corporeal. Now. Would you like a statement?</p><p><br/>Jon: A- A statement?</p><p><br/>Billie: [Audibly more impatient] Yes, Archivist. Isn’t that what feeds you?</p><p><br/>Jon: Actually, I normally eat bagels at this time of day. Um. But yes, I would appreciate if you could give me a statement.</p><p><br/>Billie: [Stifling laughter] And what will you give me, Archivist?</p><p><br/>Jon: Give you?</p><p><br/>Billie: Shit. You’re incredibly clueless for someone who is a literal avatar of knowledge. Yes. In exchange for a statement, I want something. I want someone to feed on.</p><p><br/>Jon: Out of the question. You can’t have any of my assistants.</p><p><br/>Billie: I’m not asking for somebody you know. I’m asking for an artifact.</p><p><br/>Jon: What?</p><p><br/>Billie: Fine. I’ll give you a statement about what I want from you. There’s so little you understand anyway. Do your thing.</p><p><br/>Jon: Alright. Um… Statement of Billie Turner, regarding…?</p><p><br/>Billie: What I want from you.</p><p><br/>Jon: Statement recorded direct from subject.</p><p><br/>Billie: How does an avatar of the stranger feed? The same way I was fed on by that creature, it turns out. It was my final day, I think, and had I not decided to mutilated myself so thoroughly, I would have been food for the stranger, rather than a servant of it. People talk about out of body experiences, and that is more or less what it felt like to be separated from my own flesh and blood. I saw my mutilated body being carried away. I saw my own funeral. I saw my coffin placed into the cool, damp earth.</p><p><br/>Jon: [Softly] Damn.</p><p><br/>Billie: Yes. It was pain. My entire existence is pain, Archivist. So I learned how to feed. It’s odd, something that even a child understands is completely foreign to you when you find yourself inside a new body. Or in my case, no body at all. Here is how I feed. I find somebody so terribly afraid that it gives me the sustenance that I need. I went to a bakery, barely corporeal, made only of wisps, and I found a baker. He was a bumbling fool. To be sure, his food was praised for being the best of the best when he wasn’t dropping in on the floor, but it was painful to watch him try to manage himself in the kitchen.</p><p><br/>He was also scared. I started small, like my own attacker had, standing in corners, and walking next to him, always disappearing when he caught a glimpse of me. Even that small bit of sustenance, after weeks without anything, was glorious. Every time he startled, every gasp he took, every second he took to whip around to and look at where I had been, it was delicious.<br/>It was more filling than anything I had ever experienced. In. My. Life. I was able to feed on this baker for three months, watching, getting closer, nipping at his heels as he desperately tried to escape. I was a cat, playing with my food, except for every time I let him go only to catch him again, it fed me more. Eventually I had to end him. Consume him. He did taste good, Archivist, like fresh bread and barely contained terror. This is how I feed.</p><p><br/>Now. What do I want from you? I want to find a way to feed without hurting people, for I am not as evil as I seem. You are not as evil as you seem to the rest of us out there, so I am giving you the benefit of the doubt, and trusting that you will help me. Or at least try. There must be something I can feed on that is not the fear of a human being, one that did not ask for it. I think there is an artifact that will quench my thirst, and I want you to find it for me.</p><p><br/>Jon: And if I ca’t find it for you?</p><p><br/>Billie: Simple. I continue feeding. I’m quite curious as to what a follower of the eye would taste like, really. Might be a fun experiment.</p><p><br/>Jon: You really can’t have him- them- I’m afraid.</p><p><br/>Billie: [Whispered] Then find me something else to feed on, you son of a bitch.</p><p><br/>[Click of tape recorder.]</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tumblr is @eatgreass.</p><p>This story has kept growing, so now it's five chapters and I can't guarantee that I won't add like six more.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Original recording</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Original Recording of the search for an artifact to feed the avatar that calls itself Billie Turner.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Jon makes a new friend! (finally)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Last week I met with one Billie Turner. I resolved to meet them alone in the park a block from the institute. However, I have now become intertwined in helping them, due to the statement they gave me. I have not told my assistants about this, due to the possibility that one of them has murdered my predecessor, and I do not plan to tell them about this case now, in order to avoid having unnecessary suspicion placed on me. As for the current crisis, finding something for Billie to feed on, I-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Door creaks open, and Jon abruptly stops talking]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not-Sasha: Hey Jon.  Elias wanted me to drop off some papers with you. And Tim wanted to know if you could stay away from his house. It’s freaking him out.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yes, thank you Sasha. Tell Tim I haven’t been anywhere near his house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Not-Sasha turns to leave]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Oh! -Sasha, could you see if we have any other statements regarding replacement of people without being noticed, or dolls and mannequins that watch people with or without their knowledge? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not-Sasha: [Slowly] I can check, but I don’t think we do. Why? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Oh, um, I’ve gotten quite a few statement referencing those, and wanted to see if I could find any more connections.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not-Sasha: Right. Well, I’ll check. I don’t think we have many more statements like that, though. [Sound of door closing]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Continuation. I plan on taking a trip to artifact storage and looking for something for Billie, however, I don’t know what exactly I’m looking for, so I don’t expect to find much. I will record my trip to artifact storage in case I find any worthwhile knowledge. [click of tape recorder]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder] </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Angry, voice is slightly muffled by what is assumed to be fabric.] I <em>told</em></span>
  
  <span>you, I need to look for something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Artifact Storage worker: Listen Mate, just tell me what it is and I can get it for you. It’s real dangerous in here, I don’t want you to get hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Dryly, there is the rustling of fabric, and it sounds like Jon is trying to push past whoever is blocking his way] I know what I’m doing.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Artifact storage worker: Actually, I don’t think you do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Offended] What does that mean?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Artifact storage worker: It means that you look and act incredibly incompetent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Even more offended] Listen, you can watch me the entire way, but I need to have a look at these artifacts. [beat of silence, and it is obvious that Jon has decided to play his last card] I’m the Head Archivist. I need to look at this stuff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Artifact Storage Worker: Sorry, dude. Rules, and all that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Using Compelling powers, and aware of it] Let me in. Please.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Artifact storage worker: [Long sigh.] Fine. I’m going to watch you the entire way. And if you die or get horrendously mutated, you take sole responsibility. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Surprised] Oh really? Great! Alright. Um. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Artifact storage worker: Do you know what you’re looking for?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yes. Well, mostly. Just-- let me look, alright?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Artifact storage worker: [Pointing at various places around the storage room] Haunted books are over there, things that could kill you are over there, probably harmless but really fucking creepy things are in that corner, and we keep weird things on these shelves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: … Weird things?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Artifact storage worker: Strange table with a hole in it, some sort of massage tool, a pack of cards that look haunted. Yeah. The weird stuff goes on these shelves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Can you-can you touch it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Artifact storage worker: I would try not to. Unless you like burning your fingers off, or getting them eaten, or-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Interrupting] Yes, yes, fine. I get it. Don’t touch the artifacts. [Click of tape recorder]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Scared, very scared] I took something. From artifact storage, when the man watching me went to get his water bottle. I don’t know if it’ll help Billie, but I have to try. They don’t want to live like this, and I can’t say I blame them. I’m now sitting in the park near the institute, hoping that they’ll come find me. I texted the number on the statement sheet again, but I don’t know if the text went through. Damn, I have to see if I can help them. Umm, description of the object I took from artifact storage. It is a smooth, unlabeled book with the letter “J” embossed in gold on the spine. It looks as if there was once another letter there, or at least the author intended to put another letter there, but forgot halfway through. It looks to be the start of an “I”, although it may well be a lowercase “D” or “B”, or even an “L”. The pages look like they will fall out, as they are yellowed, and the spine of the book is already coming apart. I would wager that right now, I am holding a book out of the collection of Jurgen Leitners’ library, which concerns me. Does artifact storage have a collection of all the Leitners I’ve read about? Anyho-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[He is cut off by the sound of creaking, and there is a very Jon-Like sound of terror.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Yes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Do you have to do that every time?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Do what?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: That [pause] appearing thing! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Sorry, I guess. It’s not really something I can help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Fine. That’s … fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: So, what is it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Oh, right, the book. I think I found something safe for you to feed on. Something that’s not human.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Audibly excited] Wonderful!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Don’t get your hopes up. [Rustling of paper as he pulls the book out of his bag.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: A Leitner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Throwing his hands up] That </span>
  <em>
    <span>name. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Alright, alright. Let’s see what this can do. [There is the rustle of pages]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Right here?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Where else?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Rustle of pages commences, there is a short beat of silence]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What the fuck?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Overlapping, slightly awed but in a bad way] Shit. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My tumblr is @eatgreass </p><p>Hopefully the next chapter is going to be the last one but who knows, because my brain likes to spiral after writing a chapter and then make the world bigger. I mean, originally, this was meant to be a one shot.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Cleanup plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Billie and Jon formulate a plan. Michael appears.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for existentialism in this chapter, also for anyone reading, Billie uses they/them pronouns, in case you're confused on that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Billie: Everything blew up in his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Original recording of the attempt to, um, rectify the mistakes made by unleashing the unidentified creature trapped inside a nameless Leitner book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: This is a fucking disaster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Attempting to find this creature has proven difficult, as there is no previous research that has been done on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: The archivist released a new, unknown terror on the world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Billie, please. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I’m just telling the fucking truth!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Sigh] It’s not that bad. It can’t be that bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>that bad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [sound of Billie pushing past Jon, grabbing the tape recorder. Some sounds of disapproval from Jon.] So, here’s the situation, magic tape recorder. The Archivist, being an idiot, brought me a cursed book that we opened-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Interrupting] </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> opened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Pretending they didn’t hear him] Anyway, now there’s some sort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>indescribable horror running around London, and we don’t know what it wants. So far it hasn’t killed anyone though, but it seems to be hunting us, and I definitely can’t feed on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yes… that seems to be an accurate summary.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: One question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you grab a book of all items?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Books are important. [pause] They do… things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Yes, they certainly do </span>
  <em>
    <span>things. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Point taken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: How do we stop this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I have no idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Is it like Pandora’s box? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What if the creature wasn’t the only thing in the book? Do we know if there’s anything else in the book waiting to come out?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: No, and frankly, I don’t want to find out if there’s anything left in that damn book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Sounds of clothing and paper, presumably Billie is reaching over Jon to grab the book, and Jon is resisting this.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: No- Stop- don’t do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Why not? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What happened last time you opened the book?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Sound of book opening]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Sigh]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Book- friend- are you in there?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I don’t think there’s anything left in there, Billie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Sound of book clattering on the ground]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: It’s seeping darkness!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I have fucking eyes!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Actually, you… don’t?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Well? Close it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I’m trying! I don’t think I can touch it without something happening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Sounds of paper being rifled, things being burnt, and sounds of pain. It can be assumed that Jon has tried to close the book with his foot.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Is it safe to pick up?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I don’t know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Sound of paper, sound of pain and hands jerking back from the book]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: It doesn’t seem like it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder]</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon: Billie was eventually able to pick up the book, and we have brought it back to my apartment. I don’t know exactly what will happen if we open the book in an enclosed space, and I don’t want to find out. [Jon is audibly glaring here.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I don’t plan on opening that fucking book again, no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Since what the book does is now established, we are endeavoring to figure out how to trap the unidentified being back inside of it. Hopefully before any of my assistants notice that I am missing from the archives. Billie, do you have any idea of what we’re facing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Oh, Okay. So just because I’m a monster that eats people that means I should be able to find other monsters that eat people? That’s kind of rude, isn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[You can almost hear Jons exasperation]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Fine, no, I don’t know what it is or how to find it. It had a lot of teeth, if that’s helpful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yes. I saw the teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Then we need to use W.W.G.R.D. What would Gertrude Robinson do?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I don’t think-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: </span>
  <em>
    <span>So, </span>
  </em>
  <span>first we need to figure out what this thing wants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: To eat us and inflict terror on those we love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Yes. Now we need to figure out what its weakness is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What if, well, what if it doesn’t have one?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is a pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What? What is it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What if it doesn’t have a weakness? How fucked are we, really?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Pause] Very?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Okay. Okay. It has to have some sort of weakness. Otherwise it would have already taken over the world. Right? So all we need to do is find a way to trap it in the book again. It came out of the book, it should be able to go back in. The hard part is tricking it into the book. [Pause] What?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Puzzled] What?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: You look like you have an idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: No. No, it wouldn’t work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Spill. What is it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Well, we’re trying to trap in back in the book, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [slowly] Yeah?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What if we trapped it somewhere else?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I don’t follow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: The book is just one thing to keep it contained. What if we trapped it somewhere else? Like, say, we got it to walk through a door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: No. You’re not suggesting-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I told you before, it wouldn’t work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: The spiral?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: It </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: It might.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [sound of indignation] How?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: It would hurt. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yes, but how would it </span>
  <em>
    <span>work?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Well first, we would need to find one of the doors. Then, we need to convince a creature that is the literal opposite of the distortion to walk into one of its bright yellow doors. Then, we’d need to make sure that the distortion didn’t let the being made of unknowing and fear back into the archives, which it probably would do just to have a laugh. So yeah, you were right. It’s hopeless. Any other ways you have to trap it inside the book?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What if we asked Michael to make us a door to trap it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: One, who the fuck is Michael and why can he make a door, two, why did you ever think that bringing me a Leitner would do anything? I still think that was very stupid of you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: In my defense, the book did do something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>[Billie scoffs]</span>
</p><p> <span>And Michael is-</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [Interrupting] Oh, did I hear my name, Archivist?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Startling] What the fuck are you? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [Almost pouting] Rude. And I don’t think I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span> at all, stranger. I am-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Interrupting] The Distortion. It has a human form.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yes. It calls itself Michael.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Micheal: It’s quite rude to talk about people when they’re in the room with you, Archivist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: You  said yourself that you weren’t a person.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Micheal: But it’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>theory</span>
  </em>
  <span> of things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: So, um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Micheal, </span>
  </em>
  <span>will you help us?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [Laughing] Not a chance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Angry] Why on fucking earth did you even show up then?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Hm. Your Archivist is funny at times. Rather like a stray cat that wanders around London.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Indignant spluttering]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>do that, doesn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Yes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: No- I don’t- Michael- do you have a reason to be here?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Not particularly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Can you help us?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I may be able to, yes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Beat of silence]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Will you help us?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: No. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Well, fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Beat of silence]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I could help you, yes. It would not be the most pleasant experience for me, to say the least, but I could help. But why? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I’m assuming it's not going to be as easy as telling you that it’s the right thing to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Hm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: It’s the right thing to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Nope, that won’t work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I don’t want to talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>stranger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Sound of indignation from Billie, since they are clearly not used to shutting up.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What- What do you want from me, Michael? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>answers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Relaxing slightly] O-oh. Only that? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Yes, Archivist. Questions are not </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You of all people should know that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Deep breath] What answers do you want?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Gertrude Robinson.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Audibly confused] What about her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>An Archivist is meant to take knowledge. I wonder how much it will hurt to give it to something,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Archivist.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I-I’ll have to do research. Find information, quite possibly even-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [Interrupting] I want what you know, not what you don’t. Tell me what you know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I don’t know much about my predecessor. Other than her murder, of course, and I’m still not certain who the killer was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [Laughing] Yes, Archivist, tell me. Everything you know about her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I don’t want to judge your request, but this seems like a very unhelpful thing for you to ask of me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Will you do it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Of-of course. Yes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Then begin. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So you might have noticed this story now has seven chapters. Yeah, I meant to get it all finished this chapter, but it got longer than I like to make my chapters, so I split it up, and the statement made a pretty natural break. So, two more chapters! </p><p>Visit me on @eatgreass if you wanna talk!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Statement of Jonathan Sims, given to Michael.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The archivist gives a statement.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In 1972, Gertrude Robinson was appointed the new Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Her predecessor, Angus Stacey, fell prey to a creature known as the grinning wheel, in a tragic and</span>
  <em>
    <span> very</span>
  </em>
  <span> gruesome demise. Gertrude was not qualified for an archivist position, but she was very much qualified to work in the Magnus Institute, where the main requirement is survival skills. Gertrude never quite picked up the skill of actual archiving, and the state of her office is evidence of this. However, she was able to play the role of Archivist with no trouble at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> When she became Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, she was given three assistants. Three is a special number, and has always been, for reasons unknown. Perhaps it is simply the value we place on an insignificant number collectively, and the number itself means nothing. Regardless, Gertrude had three assistants, the first being Emma Harvey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma was a shrewd woman and worked for the Magnus Institute because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, and never once had she even considered quitting. She was loyal. Or at least, she seemed so. Gertrude, you see, trusted Emma with her own life, thinking her to be the best assistant an archivist could be given. She was not. But this brings us to the second assistant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fiona Law was the one assistant that Gertrude did not choose to work with, and rather,  inherited from her predecessor. Fiona was a frail girl, and it was a miracle that she had survived as long as she had, with her skittishness and fragility, attributes scorned within a place such as the archives.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This survivability intrigued Emma greatly. She began stealing Fiona and pushing her into situations, watching her. Very web-like, Emma was. Fiona took a long time to die, even with Emma and her manipulation, and it took the buried to finally get rid of Fiona,  Emma pushing her into the deep, wet coffin. Even then, somebody that is inside the coffin is not dead, so one might say that Fiona survived the longest out of all of Gertrude's assistants, albeit in eternal torment. Gertrude might have noticed something off about Emma, may have noticed her contained glee at the funeral, and the cold look on her face as she reported Fiona's descent into the coffin, but if she did notice, she turned a blind eye to it. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Eric Delano was the third assistant of Gertrude’s, and he did not want to be bound to the institute. He made that very clear. He was insubordinate, and tried at every turn to escape, but despite that, he was a very effective researcher. I suppose it runs in the blood of the Delano's as well as the Keay's. He tried to kill Gertrude, and he tried to kill James Wright. He went missing three years after Gertrude became the head of the institute, and even the eye cannot see him. Perhaps he is dead. Perhaps he is not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those were the first three assistants that Gertrude took on. Certainly, she was sad about the death of Fiona and the presumed death of Eric, but Gertrude had always been a frightfully pragmatic woman. She hired two new assistants to take their places, and wasted no more time crying over the dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first new assistant she hired was Micheal Shelley. He was a young boy when he was hired, and had just gotten out of university, and had started a long and fruitless job search. Poor Michael. He had no idea what the institute was, what it did, how much of a festering cancer it was. All he knew was that it paid well. Perhaps he could have learned, after he became an archival assistant. Perhaps he could have been a good asset to Gertrude. And I suppose in the end, he was a wonderful asset to Gertrude. No matter the consequences to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gertrude Robinson was always greatly annoyed by her assistant Michael. He was always worrying over her, always offering a coat, or to carry boxes, bring her tea, get the papers. If seen in the right light, it was endearing. He cared. He saw her as the grandmother that he had never been able to have, but Michael had deceived himself, and this was the reason Gertrude chose him for what she did. She took him to an island off the coast of Russia. An island which, if he had bothered to check, had never existed at all. But no, his concern was the sickly looking woman bundled up against the biting Russian air, frowning for a reason he did not understand. You see, poor, innocent,</span>
  <em>
    <span> stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>Michael saw an old woman to protect, and that is what he tried to do even in his last minutes, when Gertrude handed Michael a map and pointed him towards a bright yellow door, standing alone in the wintery wasteland. He used his last minutes of freedom saying goodbye to Gertrude, and hoping that the poor woman stood before him could make it back alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew he was going to die. But just as he always did, he was deceiving himself. Maybe the door led back to the archives, back to a place where he would be warm and happy and able to care for his Archivist again. He knew that it wasn’t the case, but he held onto that hope even as he stared at the map, unknowable and understandable at the same time. And he stepped through the yellow door. He wanted to turn back, he really did. But Gertrude closed the door on him, and she held it firmly shut, with more strength than an old woman should have been able to muster. He turned the doorknob, once, twice, three times, but all he heard was maniacal laughter, and a sound of sadness and satisfaction coming from the other end of the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gertrude was not happy about losing another assistant, even if she had never liked Michael. Perhaps it can be some consolation that as she walked back to her boat, she felt a small twinge of guilt settle in her gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that did not mean anything to Michael, still Shelley, as he stood on the other side of the door, facing a hallway of terror. As he walked down the hallway and towards the core of the spiral-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>[Statement is cut off with a shriek of pain from Jon, as he tries to comprehend and explain the inside of the Distortions hallways, an utterly impossible feat.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Michael Laughs.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Angrily] What did you do?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I asked </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to give </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>a statement. I suppose you were releasing your power in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>harmful way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Shit Jon, are you okay?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yes, yes, it’s fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Good. I can’t find this creature without you. [Turning to Michael] Now, are you going to help us?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Hm. What do you need me to do, stranger?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Pause.] We’ll call you when we find out?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Do you think the throat of delusion incarnate has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cell phone?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Sitting up] Yes, I think you do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I only use it to spread discord. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What do you do, start twitter wars?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is a pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Promise to help when we call you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Promises are fickle, meaningless things, Archivist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: That’s a yes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is a creaking of a door. Michael is gone.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [grumbling] I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>the distortion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder.]</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one was  a hard chapter to write. Word don't go. Anyway I figured I'd gone over it and sat on it enough, and just posted it because at this point it's not getting any better.</p><p>my tumblr is @eatgreass</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Scream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The creature called itself Scream.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So you may notice we now have ten chapters. That's because I really wanted to flesh out the monster, since a scary thing is cool, but a scary thing that you see the perspective of? That's cooler, at least to me. Anyway, enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The creature called itself scream. It was new to the world, and although it was born with knowledge, it was also a child. A monster, but as innocent as any monster could be, not knowing how much the people it fed on were hurting. Scream. Somewhere deep inside it knew that names were important, and nobody gave it one, so it named itself. Scream, because that was the sound people made upon seeing it. Scream thought it was a pretty sound, and thus named itself after the sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream decided that it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>he. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He decided that he liked his name, and needed to find the people that had created him. He liked the fear he caused, but hated the sense of wrongness that his own body afforded him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream decided that this was who he was. A sense of identity is important. It hurts more to die from a person than a thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was stalking an old man. The man, Benjamin Cox, worked at a fulfillment center, packing boxes all day, because he was never able to get a high school education. He wanted to, but his brother fell ill just as he was starting his third year, and he left school to take care of that brother. His mother was never very much help. Not because of apathy, or because of hatred, but because of love. A powerful motivator, although even it ties well into fear. Fear that somebody does not love you. Fear that your bond of love will be broken. Fear that those you love will get hurt. The mother, Stacey Cox, was motivated by the third kind of fear. She worked three jobs, more hours than anyone should have been in and out of an office, and there was no father to care for the two brothers. His brother would wake up screaming, seeing things that weren’t there. That was the worst part of the sickness. As the old man grew older, he realized that his brother had been paralyzed in the night, by chemicals and fear, and had woken to see his brother was a monster. Everybody could move but him, and there was a woman smiling at him with empty glazed eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man grew up, and found other places to work, until his brother passed away, and then he cried and found different places to work. He tried to forget and remember his brother in equal measure, but it had been a very long time since the man had thought of anything but the smiling face of his brother in his mind's eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The events of nights spent comforting a terrified younger brother were well and truly suppressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until Scream remembered for the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stood alone in the alleyway was Benjamin Cox, trying and failing to call somebody on his cell. He was so deep into the call, that he did not notice the man walking up to him. Scream was featureless, utterly ordinary. Not one to be noticed, until he stood in front of Benjamin, slightly too close for comfort, waiting for the man to notice him. When Benjamin looked up from the phone he was pressing at, he saw Scream. Scream smiled a smile with far too many teeth that were all too sharp for comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First, the victim begs. They think that their pleading words and the pure terror in their eyes will somehow make Scream feel guilty, make him realize the pain that he pushes into others. They plead, in their last moments, that they need one more chance, one more day, one more </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Scream never listens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the victim realizes that they cannot beg their way out of their fate, they run. There is  a chase, the person foolishly thinking that if they cannot see Scream, then Scream, cannot see them. They look at the pavement in front of them with their feet pounding and they think if they can run fast enough and long enough, that Scream will let them go. He never does. Their agony when they run from him is enough to keep him fed while he slowly but surely stalks them down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The victim tries to hide. Once they cannot see Scream behind them, the adrenaline leaves their body, and they find a place where they think they can wait out the terror. Scream will find them, for places do not contain Scream, and he can  see through the strange metals and crevices and crannies that we make.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>IIne the victim is cornered, once they see that they cannot run and they cannot hide, they do the only thing left for them. They fight. Sometimes the human has a knife or a gun, and it slices through and out of Scream’s thick outer layer of skin. Sometimes all they have is an improvised weapon, a stick, or even simply fists. They hit, they rage, they shout with tears rolling down their faces as they realize the last ditch effort they made was utterly useless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, the victim dies. That was what was different about Benjamin. When he came to the realization that he was completely and utterly trapped, Scream did not feel the spike of fear that indicated a job nearly done. No, Scream felt the peace of the man before him, as Benjamin walked towards him, utterly unafraid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream was scared. In his bones, or lack thereof, he knew that this was not the order of things. Scream was the predator, the man his prey, but instead the man was left without fear of the being in front of him. Even worse, the man did not want to hurt him. Benjamin wanted to go home. He was tired, too tired to be angry or scared, or feel anything but a deep weariness. Benjamin wanted to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream ran.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benjamin lived.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream was afraid, for this had never happened to him. He did not know that sometimes the prey would not be prey, and he did not know that the order of things could be disrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he went in search of those who created him. For answers. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Crossing fingers* please, please, me, stop thinking up new ways to expand the story and add chapters. At this rate, I might as well make the amount of chapters ?, but I THINK I know this time.<br/>You can find me at @eatgreass on tumblr</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Setting A Trap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solutions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ugh Michael is so hard to write. Perfect mix of "Awful bastard cat" and "existential crisis manifestation'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Billie: Okay, so the plan is- ?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: We trap the creature in Michaels hallways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Plan. That’s a goal. We need a plan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: It’s a pretty straightforward plan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: So how are we going to find the thing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Right. And how are we going to convince it to walk into a bright yellow hallway?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Okay. And how are we going to make sure that … </span>
  <em>
    <span>Michael </span>
  </em>
  <span>doesn’t spit the thing right out just to spite us?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Michael wouldn’t break his promise, so that’s one problem solved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: The creature that calls itself “It Is Lies”  is not going to lie to us. Do you think that, or do you Know that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Well-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Right. Any other genius solutions, Archivist?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: You did say it was hunting us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: So-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: So that’s one problem solved. It won’t be hard to find it, it’s searching for us. [Pause] And I think we both know how we can lure it into the doorway, if we’ve already set ourselves up as bait.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Billie: [slowly realizing] Fuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Yeah.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I’m not throwing myself into the spiral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: You’ll come out. You won’t be stuck there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Forgive me if I don’t believe you on that front.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: It makes sense. If we have Michael on our side, we can exit the maze, and leave the creature to rot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I’m still not convinced we have the spiral on our side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I already gave it the statement it asked for!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: And it hurt you. Badly. I could see your power draining, so I don’t think that- that </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>wishes you any goodwill. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I believe it’ll keep its word. Do you trust me?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: No. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Can you listen to me?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Only if you make me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Exasperated] Can you stop acting like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>acting like a fucking child, Archivist, but I am not going inside those doors. Full stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Why not? What scares you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What scares me is the madness of nothing being right and nothing being wrong. The stranger loses power when everything is strange. [Snapping back to themself] Don’t do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Do what?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Sigh] Nevermind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is the sounds of beeping, a cell phone is being used]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What are you-? No, don’t!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is the sound of scrambling and crashing. Billie has tried to grab the phone from Jon, and there is the sound of a door creaking open.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Hello, Archivist. [Slightly disgusted] And </span>
  <em>
    <span>stranger.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Why?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Such a good question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Shut the fuck up, distortion. Jon, why did you bring it here? Why did you let him come here?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: He’s going to have to be part of the plan. [There is a pause] I’m sorry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [In a tone that suggests everything is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine] It’s fine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: What did you call me here for, Archivist? I’m very busy you know, tormenting people, [pause] Tormenting… more people.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: It’s time for you to uphold your part of the deal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Time is difficult, what deal did I make and with who this time?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is a sigh, Billie and Jon have sighed in unison]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I gave you a statement, you help us trap a creature. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Ah, that one. One of the more boring deals I’ve made.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: But an important one. Are you going to tell us the truth?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I am lies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [To Jon] It’s not going to help us! It wants to hurt us, and nothing you do or say is going to change that!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Sigh] Michael… I know you don’t want to help me-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I don’t?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: But if you care about… do you care about Sasha-?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Not particularly. She was but another human trapped on a linear time path, and a path that has already ended. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Sasha-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: But I will help you. Because you gave me a statement, and I am not an avatar of manipulation. But mostly, because it’s fun to watch you squirm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [To Billie] See, he’s going to help us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Scoffs] Or so he </span>
  <em>
    <span>says.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [You can tell he really dislikes Billie] Stranger, what reason do I have to lie to you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: You mean the fact that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are lies </span>
  </em>
  <span>isn’t enough to convince me that you aren’t trustworthy?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I get to have a fun meal delivered straight to my door. I get a statement from the Archivist. I get to watch the Archivist try his best to fix another mistake he made. What do I get if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>help you?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: You get to watch us </span>
  <em>
    <span>fail, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you fucking a-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There are sounds of violence from all three people in the party. The rest of Billie’s swear is unintelligible.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Interrupting, he sounds like he’s trying to pull two people off of each other]  Billie- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Billie- </span>
  </em>
  <span>since we don’t  have a better plan than using Michael's doors, can we </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>operate under the assumption that he’s telling us the truth and does want to help us?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Billie sounds out of breath. Michael is giggling in the background.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Growling] </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But if any of this goes wrong, I’m killing both of you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [Still laughing] Why didn’t you serve the slaughter?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Billie pointedly ignores Michael.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Michael. The plan is that we let the creature find us. We have it follow </span>
  <em>
    <span>me-</span>
  </em>
  <span>no Billie, you don’t have to go into the door- into one of Michael's doors, and you keep the creature and spit me out somewhere close to where I was before, preferably quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Time is difficult.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Cutting in] And what am I doing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: You’re useless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [At the same time] Try to stop me from dying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder]</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I HAVE done it, it is going to be ten chapters. <br/>Jon trusts a literal monster more than his own coworkers, becuase at least michael didn't kill gertrude.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Catching a Monster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The plan is set into action.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Really short one today lads, sorry for that. On another note, I do have it finished so I'll post the last chapter on wednesday.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: We have everything set up to catch the creature that escaped. Our plan is to lure it inside of Michael’s door, and in turn Michael will consume the creature, and the problem will be solved. I will run into the door to have the creature follow me, and Michael will bring me out safely. Billie will watch my six, and they’ll jump out of the way before they end up going through the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: This is a stupid plan, Archivist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Shut up. I think it’s a great plan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Pleased] You do?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: No. I just hate that </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Rude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Hopefully this dumpster fire of a plan works and I never have to see either of you again, especially that creature of madness. [They are very disdainful of Michael]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: So we just wait until the creature runs right into the trap we set for it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Well, yes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>-----</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream was not a hunter, but he knew how to track fear. The problem was that the people that let him out of his cage  weren’t afraid enough to track. At least, not afraid enough of him. He remembered a book, the smell of a dry, rustling page that encased him, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to go back into the book, because although it was his womb, he remembered one thing about being inside of it. It hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, a monster can feel pain. It was dark and cold and </span>
  <em>
    <span>scary</span>
  </em>
  <span>, being trapped in the confines of the pages, and he didn’t want to go back.  He knew he wasn’t meant to live inside the pages, but he didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except feed, he supposed. That was as natural as anything. But he didn’t want to be alone, and he was scared, so he went in search of his liberators. Maybe they could tell him how to live.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Click of tape recorder]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Whispering] There it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: That just looks like a normal ma-oh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Subtly different. And it’s taking people in daylight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What’s different about daylight?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: It’s a park, a populated place. Noonday. Nobody thinks anything can happen in places so… so </span>
  <em>
    <span>mundane. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s a special kind of cruel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Didn’t you slowly and horrifically destroy a baker’s sense of sanity, then consume him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Audibly glaring] Shut up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I’m just asking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is the sound of Billie nudging Jon.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: It sees us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: It’s not coming closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What do we do? Wait?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[pause, there is some clanking]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>I suppose it’s time to run. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is the sound of jostling and bags moving, presumably Billie and Jon are running for their life.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were running. Scream didn’t want them to </span>
  <em>
    <span>run. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He needed answers. He needed to know what was wrong with him, who he was, what he was, why he was inside the book!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chased them. He knew that his stamina would last forever, but after the failed feeding, he was already exhausted. The man, he was tired. The other Stranger, it was not. It was as strong as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>monster should be. Scream was jealous, and he ran after it, focusing not on the haggard man running in fear, only on the other Stranger. It could show him what to do. It could help him, It could </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span> him!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Billie-!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: </span>
  <em>
    <span>SHIT!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is the sound of a door closing.]</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow. Bet nobody expected Billie would end up going through that door. </p><p>Also! If you like the magnus archives, I was binge listening to the underwood collection today which is basically the magnus archives but fan made, in america, and with 400% more canonical not-cis people. So it's been great!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The spiral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It all comes to an end.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tw for panic attacks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>[Michael laughs]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Shit, fuck, shit, fuck!, shit, fuck. [Their voice is cracking, and they are dangerously close to crying.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Billie, Billie, Billie, Billie. Focus. Focus. Calm. Calm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: You fucking did this! You did this to me! You brought me here! [There is the sound of Billie pushing Jon away. They are now crying.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Michael!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Yes, Archivist?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There are sobs from the background]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Make it normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Nothing is normal here. You should know that, We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span> of me, did you think anything would make sense?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [Sigh] Fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There are sounds of shrieks, wallpaper ripping off, and doors creaking.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is silence, apart from shaky breaths coming from Billie]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: You can open your eyes now. It’s okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There are deep breaths, Billie is trying to calm down. There is the sound of chairs scooting, and the creak of a couch]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Tea?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is the sound of Jon falling down onto the carpeted floor]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: You-You-what-? How-?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Micheal: I am these hallways, and they are me. I can appear however I like. Or however I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is the sound of flesh moving and bones, or not bones, twisting.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Can you look- Can you- Give yourself </span>
  <em>
    <span>limbs </span>
  </em>
  <span>at least, please. I have quite a headache.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>quite rude for you to tell me how to look in my own self, you know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: It’s quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you to bring that thing here, when you told us you’d destroy it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Quietly] It is lies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: Hi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [A bit more alert than previously] Why did you bring that </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>to us, distortion? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: Scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Coldly] What.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: I chose a name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the human-eating creature created of terror decided it has a </span>
  <em>
    <span>personality. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Splendid!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: You are… also a human eating creature of terror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: It’s different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Jon snorts at this, but decides not to push it, presumably because Billie is already very upset.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Oh, do we want to play a get-to-know-you game?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>weren’t you too busy feasting on me to give any input, </span>
  <em>
    <span>distortion?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: You are still </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>afraid. I didn’t know that we could feed on the fear of other entities, quite delicious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Billie makes a sound like they don’t know whether to start crying again or punch Michael.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [Recognizing the tension in the room] Scream? What do you want?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: [Quietly] To learn to be a good monster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: They can teach me. [It is implied that Scream points at Billie]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: What, so I should teach you how to eat humans better?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: Yes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Is your head screwed on wrong? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: I don’t think so? [He is prodding his head]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: No- Nevermind- figure of speech. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: What Billie is saying- rather inelegantly- is that they won’t teach you to be more evil than you are, and they think the best way to deal with you would be to thrust you into the spiral to be consumed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There are sounds of creaking from the background]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bilie: Yes. That.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: I don’t think I'd like that very much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Suck it up, buttercup.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: I am Scream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Yeah, figure of speech. Again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: So our options are that you don’t hurt people, and stay out of our way, or we-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Kill you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Is that- Michael, stop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Sounds of creaking stop, there is a disappointed huff.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: I am not malicious, any more than a lion is malicious for hunting a gazelle. Humans praise the food chain until they are not at the top. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Well-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: No, no, he makes a fair point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Great. I suppose we’ll just let him out to wreak havoc on the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Hm, sounds like a good idea to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: So now our two options are to let him out and subsequently become responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, or have Michael consume him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I vote havoc. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: I vote death. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Michael, stop that, and you don’t get a say. Billie, are you just trying to contradict Michael?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Only partially. I also want this trial by distortion to be over so I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>get out </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this fucking place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: [Addressing Billie] Stranger, were you human?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bille: Billie. That’s my name and you should use it, and I was human to begin with, in a manner of speaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: [Disappointed] I never got to be human. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: You are the </span>
  <em>
    <span>furthest </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing from human. You enjoy the sound of screams, you enjoy hurting people, and you sure as fuck don’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>sort of moral compass. You could never even think to be human.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Scream, do you want to be human?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: Yes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: [In a sing-song] Don’t ask questions in my hallways, Archivist. It won’t end well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Humans don’t hurt other humans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: Yes, they do. I’m not different. Nobody in this room is innocent either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: And only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>person here feels guilty about it!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: He’s still mostly human, that’s not fair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Mostly-? Is there-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: You want to learn to be human?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: Yes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Well, I was about the shittiest human ever, so you won’t learn jack from me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: I’m not a human!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is a pause, and it is obvious that all eyes are on Jon.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I’m not- I’m not exactly a… model human, either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: We can’t teach him to be human, so down he goes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: What?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Good</span>
  <em>
    <span>bye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Wait. [Pause] I think I have an idea.  Scream, if you want to become human, I can help you, if you follow our rules.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: What is my deal?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: I know- well I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know, </span>
  </em>
  <span> but I have heard about a group of… </span>
  <em>
    <span>things </span>
  </em>
  <span>trying to become human like you. They aren’t exactly what you are, but I think they can help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: [Audibly confused] Who are they?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: [There is the sound of crumpling paper] This is the number for Doctor Lionel Elliot. Tell him you are searching for his Anatomy 101 class. I’m sure he’ll understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scream: And?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: And you don’t kill anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael: Oh, look at that! A happy ending for everybody involved. Except the poor stranger here, I suppose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: Shut up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Michael, let us out. All three of us. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Pause]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Michael.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[There is the sound of a door creaking. Immediately after, there is the sound of squelching mud, and heavy pouring rain.]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gross. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billie: This is why I hate the distortion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon: Duly noted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[The mud and rain sounds continue, and the tape recorder is switched off.]</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I'm sure you noticed I didn't know how to end it. However, I live for the headcanon that michael likes to be inconvenient.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>